Beauty and the Beast
by NerdyGirl0118
Summary: Bulma is supposed to marry Yamcha. Supposed to. But, she's always felt like he isn't the one for her, like there was someone out there more...beastly. So what happens when Bulma meets her beast? Can this beauty change the beast's heart before she loses her chance at true love?
1. Chapter 1

Beauty and the Beast

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Dragon Ball Z

* * *

Once upon a time, in a land where the air still held that magical touch, a young selfish, arrogant prince ruled the land. He was a prick of a ruler, having overly priced taxes that left the people in poverty. The living conditions were unbearable, but where was one to go when the heir wouldn't let you so much as _breathe_ the air in the land...beyond.

One day a beautiful young sorceress had enough. She threaded up to the wondrous castle that held the wicked prince,

She knocked on the large, velvet colored door. She heard the rustle of feet and the loud clang of the door sliding across the marble floor.

She waved a hand over her body and transformed into an innocent looking child.

"May I speak to the prince. _Please_," she begged, she looked like the child that had died of starvation in her village. She wasn't advanced in sorcery, her grandmother had died before she could teach her much.

The thin, black haired lady nodded. She turned inside hung rung a bell. A gong like sound rung in the young girl's ears.

The prince was seen walking down the steps of the castle. He strode up to her, "What pest?" He snarled, examining his nails.

Strike one. "Your highness! It's my mother, she's-"

"Girl! Hurry up, I don't have all day! Besides, you smell wretched!" He stuck his nose into the air, crossing his arms over his chest.

Strike two. "My mother is dying. Would you please help?" the sorceress murmured calmly.

"Ugh! Like your mother dying is of any importance to me. Get out of my sight," he waved his hand, turning on his heel. His maid looked apologetic as she started to shut the door.

Strike three. She waved her hand in front of her body and transformed into the pretty young girl she was. "Prince Vegeta, you are to be turned into the beast that you truly are inside," she chanted a few swords in Latin before she blew upwards. "And your little servants are to be cursed along with you. You have to find someone to love you for who you really are before the last petal on this rose falls, or else you all die," she cackled softly, flying away.

The prince's eyebrows raised in question as he felt...different. He shrugged, walking down the hall towards the west wing, passing a mirror on the way. He glanced at the reflection and howled in fury.

* * *

Thousands of years had passed and the prince secluded himself inside his castle, leading the villagers to believe that he had died. They prospered, being able to keep their hard-earned cash.

Eventually though, the village died out and lush green took it's place. A heavily wooded forest grew around the green and within it's outskirts, a small town which hold our main character, Bulma. A true Blue Beauty.

Our story starts with Bulma and her family.

* * *

"Oh Papa!" Bulma trotted down the steps toward the kitchen where her father was working on some quirky invention.

"In here Darling Daughter! I'm working on the," Bulma heard a loud clatter, "microwave. The radiation needs to be lessened to cook the food. Now don't bother me right now. Go help one of your sisters," Bulma appeared in the kitchen, only to see her father wave his hand, indicating her to leave.

Bulma rolled her eyes, turning back the way she came. Going up the stairs, she bumped into her younger sister Maron.

"Oh, hello!" She waved cheerily.

Bulma sighed. Out of her two sisters, she disliked talking to Maron the most. Don't get her wrong, Bulma loved her sisters to death, but Maron was, as her father said, a bit mentally challenged.

"Hello Maron, how are you doing? Do you need anything?" Bulma asked slowly. Her father said talking slower could help her development.

"Well, um, Launch ic in one of her moodc," Maron struggled out.

She also had a speech impediment. She couldn't pronounce the letter 's.' The, 'ssss,' sound always came out, 'cccc.' Father was working on that.

"Thanks for telling me, wanna help me fix her?" Bulma asked.

"Yec pleace," Maron nodded, following Bulma up the beautiful mahogany steps.

Bulma entered the room, looking at the back of her eldest sister's blonde hair.

Bulma's heart constricted with sadness. Her mother had bore three children, each with something wrong with them. Launch had multiple personalities, Maron with her slight speech impediment and slight mentally problems, and Bulma had extreme anger issues and the odd rose-shaped birthmark on her right palm. While Maron and Bulma inherited their father's abnormal coloring, Launch got it as well, but when she sneezed, she had the exact hair color their mother had. The luscious golden locks, that, while Launch wore down, their mother, Bunni styled it atop her head in a fashionable updo.

Bulma reached into her turquoise dress, white apron combo, pulling out the feather used for emergencies such as these. She yanked Maron forward and threw the poor girl at her. Launch, stunned, froze for a second, just enough time for Bulma to wiggle the feather under her nose.

"Achoo!" She sneezed, reverting back to her original self.

"What happened?" She questioned.

Bulma laughed, the other knew nothing about their counterpart. "Oh nothing. What were you doing anyways?" Bulma asked, plopping down on the bed.

"Oh, I'm going on a date with Tien. You know he asked me to marry him? I hope Papa allows it," Launch fretted, digging through her closet.

"You could wear the white drecc with the navy blue ribbon under the buct. And the navy blue slipperc with the blue pendent necklace," Maron swung her feet above her head.

"Oh! Good suggestion Maron! Thanks," Launch giggled.

Maron smiled brightly. She knew of her disabilities, and she hated when they treated her like she was lesser than. However, she loved when they praised her and showed her appreciation. Especially in the area of fashion. She hoped to be one of France's best fashion designers.

Launch dug into her closet, pulling out the outfit. She stripped down, dressing. "Hey Bulma? How's it going with you and Yamcha?" Launch asked, slipping the dress on.

Bulma groaned. "Don't even ask. I caught him fucking the duchess," Bulma rolled her eyes.

Launch and Maron gasped. "Bulma! Don't be so vulgar!" Launch scolded.

"What? It's only us," Bulma sighed, leaning back into the comfort of a sea of pillows, her aqua hair spread around her face.

"I know, but Bulma it's unladylike," Launch giggled.

"Whatever, you would probably faint if you found it the things you say," Bulma mumbled.

Launch cocked her head in confusion. "What are you taking about?"

Bulma waved her hand, rolling onto her stomach, "Nothing, nothing at all." Bulma opened her mouth to say something else, but the doorbell rang.

"Oh no! He's here!" Launch started to flutter about, messing with her already perfect look.

Bulma rolled her eyes,"Stop!" She grumbled.

Launch froze. She learned at an early age to never disobey Bulma when she was annoyed. Unless you wanted her to burn off one of your eyebrows in your sleep.

"Maron, you help Launch calm down. I'll stall Tien," Bulma instructed.

"Cir, yec, cir," Maron saluted.

Bulma yawned as she got off the bed and shuffled down the stairs.

"Tien Goldstien. I need to have a word with you," Bulma motioned with her finger to the private sitting area. Tien gulped. Bulma scared the crap out of him.

He followed her to the room and sat on the comfy violet couch.

"Now Tien, I hear your planning on marrying my sister. Is that correct?" Bulma's usually joyous eyes were now ice cold. Show no mercy.

"Y-yes?" He stammered.

"You say that as a question. Do you plan on taking my sister, and everything she's got to offer, then leave her?"

Tien's eyes harden as he sat up straighter. Bulma inwardly smirked.

"Ma'am, I would never, _ever_ leave Launch. She is the love of my life. The sunshine that brightens my day. The klutz that brings a smile to my face. I don't mean offense. I mean it in that cutesy way of hers that makes me want to smile along with her when she makes mistakes, or pat her on the back when she's in one of her 'moods.' You see, Launch is my everything and if you take her away, there will be no purpose to my life."

"What life do you have to offer her?"

"I am no rich man. I admit that. I can't exactly offer her a life of luxury, but I can give her a quiet carefree life on the mountainside. I have a cottage there not too far from here. I have a secure job as a blacksmith and another as a librarian. I can give her a life," he stated, passion thickly laced his one

Bulma nodded her head, standing up. She walked over to Tien and glared down at him. Bulma was a petite girl, barely over four feet, however she could look down at someone no matter what their size.

Tien, sitting down, was well over six feet tall. In the position he was in now, he could just barely see over Bulma's head.

"Just know, if you so much as _think_ about hurting Launch, I _will_ kill you, as brutal and ruthless as possible."

Tien stood, staring Bulma down. "Don't worry about it because I will kill _myself_ if Launch ever so much as _dreams_ about me hurting her."

Bulma shrugged. "Either way it goes, you die," Bulma twisted on her heal, walking out of the room. She trudged up the stairs.

"Launch, he's all your," Bulma winked at her causing Launch to shiver in fear. Bulma threatened anyone who decided on courting her sisters.

Launch leaned down and kissed both Bulma and Maron on the cheeks. "Bye," she waved gracefully swaying down the stairs.

The pair waved back, smiling.

"They make a really cute couple, don't you think?" Bulma asked, sighing in love.

"Of cource. They were made for each other," Maron giggled

"I wish my boyfriend was like that," Bulma scrunched up her nose in disgust.

"At leact you have one," Maron winked.

"Ugh!" Bulma groaned. "You can have him. I want someone more...beastly," a smile broke across her face.

"What do you mean?" Maron tilted her head in curiosity.

"Well, Yamcha is, how do I say? Boring. Boring to talk to, interact with, sleep with," Bulma nudged Maron mockingly.

Maron blushed. "Bulma! Have you alwayc been thic vulgar?"

"Um, yea!" Bulma threw her head back, chuckling.

Maron smiled, pulling Bulma into a sisterly hug.

Maron always viewed Bulma as the oldest, even through Launch was the eldest.

When they were little, they hadn't had much. Just a two bedroom shack of a home with hardly any food or water. There was a thunder storm, and water leaked through the holes in the ceilings, splattering on the girls' faces keeping them up all night. The lightening was scaring them, and Bulma, tired of being afraid, made them sit up and form a circle.

She started telling them wondrous stories of princesses and unicorns.

The stories had soothed them into sleep, taking away the frightened tremble of their bodies.

Ever since then, Maron had looked up to Bulma, viewing her as the person she wanted to grow up as. She viewed her as her...mom.

"Hey Bulma," Maron whispered after several moments of silence.

Bulma turned to face her, "Yea?"

"I think that you chould go out more. Cee the world," Maron said slowly, weighing each word before saying it.

Bulma laughed, a short bitter, humorless laugh. "I wish I could, but I can't. I mean, I have to marry Yamcha so that I can become a rich lady and Papa can become a world famous inventor. It's my duty to marry, not after love, but responsibility," Bulma sighed, sounding absolutely miserable.

"Why?" Maron asked. "Why doec it have to be you? Why can't it be Launch. I mean che ic the oldect."

Bulma laughed, the same cold, empty laugh. "Launch is too, well, naïve. She couldn't marry out of responsibility. She'll end up doing something stupid like having an affair or killing herself, or something."

"Oh," was all Maron said. "Do you-"

"Bulma! Get down here, Yamcha is here for your guy's date," her father shouted up the stairs.

Bulma groaned, wiping her face and rolling off the bed. She fell on her hands and knees with an, "Oomph!" She carefully got on her feet and reached the door muttering, "I'd rather stab out my eyes." She then took a deep breath and trotted down the stairs.

Maron laughed. "I hope you find your beactly man cicter. He ic out there."

* * *

ChiChi turned to Goku. "Why isn't he coming out today?"

Goku shrugged. "He said, 'Get the hell out Kakarot, before I break your ticking face.'"

"I think he's getting moodier," Eighteen yawned.

"Probably because there is only a petal left on the flower, and each petal is worth a year. The what? Five thousandth mark is coming up in five months. If the master doesn't find someone to love him, we're screwed," Krillin panicked.

"MaMa? What does Uncle Krillin mean?" Gohan asked, nudging her handle.

"That, if Master Vegeta doesn't fix his attitude, we're all gonna die," ChiChi whispered solemnly.


	2. Chapter 2

Omg! This is like really embarrassing! Ok, so when I was posting the chapter onto her, I totally changed something in the story, because I wanted to cut out a scene I didn't really like, so when I was overlooking my chapter two, I realized that scene was important after all, because without it, everything else doesn't make sense, so instead of changing all these scenes, I'll just tell you right now that Bulma is bipolar and has odd attacks and she has this special medication needed to suppress them. There I fixed it! ^o^

On with chapter two!

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own Dbz!

Chapter Two

"So babe, where do you want to go?" Yamcha asked after they left her her house.

"Home," Bulma mumbled, tugging on a strand of hair.

"Oh. How about we go to the river?" Yamcha suggested, twiddling his thumbs.

"How about you take me home?" Bulma countered as she tugged her hair harder.

"Aw babe. Don't be like that," Yamcha reached over and tried to pull her into a hug.

"Don't touch me," Bulma said coldly, putting her hands up in defense.

Yamcha awkwardly dropped his hand. He grabbed her arm, pulling her behind a tiny shop. "You will not disrespect me in public. Understood?" Yamcha spat in her face, pressing his body into hers.

Bulma shoved him off, looking away. "Leave me alone. I'm not in the mood," Bulma whispered tiredly.

Yamcha grabbed her hair, pulling her to face him. "I don't care. You will do as i say, when I say. Or else I'll call off this whole engagement," Yamcha threatened.

Bulma's eyes widened as her face paled. "No...I'll do whatever you say. Just...don't. Please," Bulma begged. Her family needed his money. Sure, they were pretty well-off, but her Father hadn't sold and invention in two months, and the money from the last invention was in its last hundreds.

Yamcha dropped her on the floor. He smirked down at her. "That's what I thought. If you ever defy me again there will be he'll to pay."

Bulma nodded, wanting so badly to take a shower to remove the dirty feeling he left on her body. She brokenly got off the floor, balling her fist to keep from punching a wall.

"Come on. We are going to a river," Yamcha turned, leaving Bulma to follow.

Bulma flared her nostrils, but otherwise followed. This was how their 'dates' usually went.

A simple question. A retort. A simple suggestion. A retort. A simple make-up. A retort. An angered command. A retort. An angered threat. A saddened agreement. Either way it went, Yamcha always won because he had what she wanted and she could do nothing about it. Except hire an assassin when they were married and she owned what was his.

Yamcha stopped suddenly, making Bulma bump into his back.

Yamcha spun around, shooting her an evil glare, before he shooed her away.

Bulma sighed and went to stand next to a nearby horse carriage. She knew Yamcha probably spotted Lady Deena Henry, Duchess Analeise Fokler, or one of the,'Slutty Triplets,' as so Bulma and her sisters deemed them. These people all were Yamcha's lovers. Bulma once saw the dear duchess and Yamcha in bed together.

Did Yamcha apologize, or even feel ashamed? No.

Did Bulma really care? Not really, she hated the prick.

Did Yamcha still get the shit beaten out of him? You betcha, and Bulma enjoyed every minute of it.

Her only regret, she didn't get back at the duchess for cheating on such a nice, kind duke, who really loved Analeise.

Bulma sighed as it was in fact the duchess. Bulma hated her very being. With her overly fancy clothes and overly exaggerated attitude. Bulma swore that the duchess had it out to get her. Every time she attended one of her balls, Bulma always got a special plate with some poison, a rat, or whatever other shit the duchess wanted to kill Bulma with.

Bulma turned toward the horse she was waiting behind. She always had a way with animals. Maron once said that she could actually talk with them. Bulma laughed at the thought. Maron always thought that she was superwoman or something.

Bulma whispered a few words into the horse's ear, while stroking its beautifully colored chestnut mane.

The horse nodded its big head and nudged the other horse next to it. The other horse, looked at the first, who pointed to the duchess then narrowed it's eyes. The second nodded, as they readied themselves to charge. Bulma moved out of the way, waiting to watch.

The horses charged full speed at the duchess. The duchess, instead of being smart and moving, stood there screaming with her hands up in the air. Bulma started to giggle at the ridiculous sight. Yamcha, being the coward he is, jumped out of the way, not even trying to save the duchess. The next thing that happened next, puzzled Bulma. Somehow, the second horse broke free of its reigns and charged Yamcha, instead of the duchess. Yamcha shouted, running, trying, unsuccessfully, to evade the horse. The horse galloped to Yamcha, swinging its head and ramming him in the stomach. Yamcha flew back, landing in the river.

Bulma burst out laughing as Yamcha was now drenched in water. The duchess seemed to have been hit as well, but landed on a fruit stand.

Bulma ducked behind a boutique. She let her laughs rock her body, trying to smother them so they didn't get out of control. She bit the webbed part of her hand, between her thumb and index finger, trying to calm down. Not able to, she reached into her apron, pulling out an emergency pill, used to hold off attacks longer than the regular ones. She popped it in her mouth, swallowing it. She shook herself, breathing slowly as she came out of hiding.

"Oh Yamcha!" She cried, her voice that of a worried wife. She rushed over to him pulling him out of the water.

He glared at her, but said, "Bulma! Are you alright? The horse didn't hurt you, did it?"

Bulma shook her ahead, "Oh no dear because you saved me," Bulma exaggerated the last part. Yamcha was a coward, end of story.

"That's good," he nodded stiffly, fakely.

"Let's go home, I'll dry you off," Bulma murmured.

This was another part of their relationship. To play the perfect caring couple. Yeah right.

"Yamcha! Man, you're lucky to have Bulma as a fiancée. When I fell into a lake, my lady just watched, not wanting to get her dress wet. Bitch. Had to teach her a lesson, if ya' know what I mean," the guy, Joshua Duncan, the biggest asshole in the whole village, winked at Yamcha.

Bulma growled, "Why hello there Mr. Duncan, how is Shelby doing?"

Joshua turned his gaze to Bulma, who although short, managed to make him quiver in his boots, with a bright smile on her face.

"Oh Shelby! Shelby. Shelby? Um, well, you know," he uneasily rubbed the back of his neck.

"She's you wife. The mother of your daughter, Amelia," Bulma's smile remained, though her eyes darkened as she offered him information he should have known.

"Oh right. Yea, she's good," he mumbled. "Anyways, Yamcha, let's go out tonight, I'm in desperate need of some whiskey," he chuckled. "Stop by later for the details, bye ChaCha," he waved, leaving.

Bulma rolled her eyes at the nickname. 'ChaCha,' is the name he earned down at the pub. The Slutty Triplets said he was the best dancer they ever encountered, and it just so happened that 'cha,' was the last sound in his name. Go figure.

Bulma started to walk away, knowing Yamcha would follow. It was silent so making the sloshy, wet footprints seem louder.

"You know, a caring fiancée would walk beside her soon-to-be husband, not in front of," Yamcha mumbled.

"You know, a caring fiancé would be faithful to his soon-to-be wife, not cheat on her," Bulma mocked bitterly.

Yamcha chuckled, but said nothing.

Bulma opened the door to her house, stopping step Yamcha as he tried to step in. "Go home. I'm tired," she yawned.

Yamcha sighed, "Whatever, I need to meet back up with Ana. I'm stopping by tomorrow, and we're going to the bakery," he murmured, then left.

Bulma slammed the door shut as soon as he turned his back. She retreated into her home, plopping down on the couch. She rubbed her face, stretching.

Her Father poked his head inside the living room. "Hey Baby Girl! How did the date go?" Her Father asked nonchalantly.

"Papa can you please just...shut up? I'm seriously rethinking this whole engagement," Bulma sighed.

Her Father rushed into the room. "Oh, but why my dear?"

"Father, I'm just...done. He cheats right in front of me with no regrets. He treats me like a servant in public, he doesn't care about my well-being. And he's a total coward. Papa, I don't want someone like this. When I was little, I knew who I wanted. The complete opposite of Yamcha. Papa, I just..." Bulma broke down crying. Half her attack, and half real agonized tears.

Her father's look soften as he sat beside his daughter and patted her on the back. "Bulma, dear, we need the money," her father said, unsympathetically.

"NO!" Bulma screamed, an excruciatingly, unbearable cry. Bulma was hurt by the fact that her father didn't really care. "Dad, leave. I don't want to see you right now," Bulma cried, using one hand to cover her face, and the other to point to the door. "Go," it was cold.

"Bulma-" her father started, but seeing how broken she looked, he left without another word.

* * *

Upstairs, Maron heard everything, and she was upset that her father was only worrying about finances, not about Bulma's feelings.

When she heard the door shut, she went downstairs.  
"Bulma? Are you okay?" She asked tentatively, coming down the stairs.

"Maron, come here," Bulma sniffed.

"Yec, Bulma dear," Maron jogged over to Bulma, sitting next to her.

Bulma grabbed Maron's wrist, staring her straight in the eye. "Maron, don't you dare let anybody pick who you are supposed to marry. Do you hear me? Because once you get in," Bulma laughed, empty, "you can't get out."

"But Bulma, I thought you caid you were okay with it. That it wac your duty," Maron whispered, not to upset her, but to understand.

Bulma laughed manically, but when Maron went to get medicine, Bulma yanked her back down. "I know what I said, but I feel something...inside of me. Something is wrong. There is someone out there for me, and Yamcha isn't it."

Maron nodded, taking it all in. Her sister never confided in her before. Bulma hardly talked to her. Today was probably the most her and Bulma had talked. And for that, she was happy.

"Bulma, why don't you-"

"_**HELP**_!" The door burst open, revealing a blue-headed Launch with a tattered dress and scratches up and down her arms and legs.

"Launch! What the hell?" Bulma screamed, bounding up and running over to her older sister.

"The-the-the forest. It...it took him," she stammered, shivering.

"Launch, calm down. Maron, go make some hot chocolate. Come here Launch, sit down. Tell me what happened," Bulma lead Launch to the couch and sat her down, putting the afghan around her shoulders.

Launch sat silently, shaking.

"Would you rather wait for your hot chocolate?" Bulma asked calmly, motherly.

Launch only nodded brokenly. Bulma noticed that her make-up was smudged and smeared, her usual bouncy hair had clumps of dirt and leaves, and...fur?, stick in it. She was missing both her shoes, and had a deep cut on her knee.

Maron came from the kitchen, a mug filled with chocolate and whip cream in her hand. She gave it to Launch and sat on the other side of her.

"Now tell us what happened," Bulma instructed, like a snooping mother.

"Well," Launch started, but started shaking again. Bulma grabbed Launch's hand, wrapping them around the warm cup.

"Come on. Tell me what happened. You're a mess, and if anything, the Brief sisters don't look like total messes," Bulma joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Launch nodded, "Well, Tien and I wanted to have a picnic in the heart of the forest. But when we got there, it got super dark, like really dark. Like midnight. So Tien got some candles and put them around, and we had our picnic. But then, when we were done, we tried to get back, but we couldn't. It was like we were walking in circles. Just like a maze, no beginning, no end. The. We heard howling, so Tien decided to pick me up and carry me, like a gentleman. Then this big...beast attacked us. And...it took...it took..." Launch's eyes filled with tears and he couldn't speak no more.

"It took Tien," Bulma concluded, while Launch let out a heart-wrenching sob.

"What forect did you guyc go to?" Maron asked, worried.

"The Dark...dar," Launch just couldn't do it.

"The Dark Forect? Launch that forect ic curced. The dark beact will eat anything that enterc. Your lucky to even be alive," Maron gasped.

Launch cried loudly and Bulma patted her on the back, glaring at Maron. "Maron, take care of Launch. Tell Father when he comes back, that I've stepped out," Bulma commanded, standing up and going to the stairs.

"But where are you going?" Maron asked, putting Launch's cup on the table and getting her to stand.

"I'm going to kill that beast for ruining my sister's happiness of course," Bulma winked, disappearing from Maron's sight.

Maron sighed, "Come on Launch, you need a nice warm bath," she dragged Launch to the bathroom.

* * *

"Master Vegeta! You're a complete mess!" ChiChi scolded.

"Shut up you stupid teapot! Take care of this, I have a feeling he'll come in handy," Vegeta growled, tossing, what looked to be, a human carcass.

Vegeta left the room, slamming one of the many doors in the castle.

ChiChi hopped toward the body, which seemed to be dead. "Oh dear," she cried, jumping back.

Goku waddled to her side, "ChiChi, what's the matter?" He asked her.

ChiChi turned to him, tears in her eyes, "He killed another one," she cried, wanting so bad to have her husband's arms around her, but it was virtually impossible.

"Uncle Krillin, why did Master Vegeta throw that body at my mom?" Gohan asked, unknowing innocence laced on his tone.

"Because he's one messed up guy," Krillin murmured solemnly.


	3. Chapter 3

So...hiya! I sorta maybe had a really bad case of writer's block, busyness, and laziness, all mixed together! So, sorry I couldn't update. This chapter was forced outta me, so it may be weird or not good. Sorry

* * *

Disclaimer: Me? Own DBZ? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, hilarious

Chapter Three

When Bulma went up the stairs, and into the bedroom, she swore the feeling was taken out of her legs.

She feel to the floor, placing her hands over her face to smother the sobs that erupted from her chest.

She really didn't know why she was crying, but she just felt the need to. Like, some anger or rage was expressing itself through her, from her, somewhere…connected to her.

She placed one hand over her heart, calming her breathing, but she couldn't.

'Great, an attack,' she though, pulling out the final pill she held in her apron. She popped it inside her mouth, swallowing slowly.

She got up, putting her hand on the wall to steady herself, as she walked to her closet to get a backpack.

It was odd, the attacks were getting more frequent. She had always had them, but in the beginning it would be once every couple months, then once every other month, once a month, once every two weeks, once a week, once every couple days, and so on. But now…now, they seemed to be every hour. Constant, like a set alarm, reminding her of her oddity.

Bulma pulled a bag out of her closet, small and easy to handle. She pulled on one of her father's dirty old lab outfits, a large, gray, long sleeve shirt, and long, black sweatpants. She stuffed a compass, a blanket, a flashlight, a knife, two bottles of water, a chocolate bar, and the rest of the muffins in the muffin basket the Griffins had given them. She rebraided her hair, twisting it into a bun at the base of her neck. She put on a hat and scarf, keeping her warm, and skipped her way down the stairs, ready and terrified.

"Hey Bulma-," Maron started, but stopped when she saw how ridiculous and kid-wearing-her-mother's-clothes she looked, or in this case father's. "What the hell are you wearing?" she gasped, placing her free hand over her mouth.

"Forest clothes, duh. It's not like I want to get scratched up," Bulma explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, you cure are brave, I would never go out in an outfit that ugly," Maron muttered, leading a wet and dripping Launch to the couch to dry her off.

"Dammit Maron! You're not helping!" Bulma stamped her foot, marching into the kitchen to grab a bottle of pills. "Anyways, that was a quick shower, did you wash out all of Launch's wounds?" Bulma asked, carefully, searching in the cabinet for the bottle of pills.

"Of cource!" Maron humped, offended. "And it wacn't chort, we were in there for, like, an hour!"

"No, I just went upstairs like fifteen, twenty minutes ago," Bulma grunted, climbing onto the shelf to get the bottle. It was the last one.

"Bulma, it's been an hour. You muct have been doing come crazy napping, becauce it'c been an hour," Maron mumbled, brushing out Launch's wet hair.

"Hn," Bulma answered, climbing down with the bottle in hand. She opened her bag and nestled it inside. She came out the kitchen, a sad smile on her face. "Well, I'm off," she murmured quietly, turning to leave.

"Stop!" Launch whispered, her voice low, so low Bulma almost didn't even catch it.

She turned, "Yes?"

"Bring him back to me Bulma. Please," Launch cried, a single, crystal tear flowed down her face, and Bulma smiled.

"Of course. Maron, Launch, take care," she grinned, opening the door and leaving.

Bulma snuggled into the comfort of her scarf, pulling it closer to her neck as the brisk, cold air hit her. She shivered, walking in the direction of the forest.

She wanted to turn back, wanted to go back up stairs, wanted to nestle into her many blankets, but she couldn't. Her sister needed her to do this, so for Launch's happiness, she would risk her life to find Launch's beloved.

Bulma approached the dark, menacing looking forest. She read the signs of warning and gulped, stepping into the forest. She traveled a short distance, before she felt a feeling of dread wash over her. She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest to retain some warmth.

As she continued on, she felt like someone was…watching her. Peering at her with critical eyes, almost like someone was…judging her. Bulma scoffed, gently rubbing at her nose, as she pulled a double chocolate chip muffin from her bag, and began nibbling on it.

Bulma, remembering what Launch told her about walking in circles, pulled out her knife, and made a little tally on the tree nearest to her. She pulled out her compass, planning to move in a perfectly straight line, but…something was off. The compass's needle spun wildly out of control. Not stopping, just continual spinning, like it couldn't find north.

Bulma panicked, and stuffed the compass back in her bag. She kept walking, trying to forget the crazy compass, but it persisted, making Bulma go a little crazy.  
An animal scurried across the forest floor, and Bulma spun, throwing a knife at it.

The little squirrel made a dying squeal, before it was silent. Bulma retrieved the knife, walking on.

Bulma ended up tripping over an overgrown root, and grabbed onto the tree for support. She ran her thumb over the tree, finding the little tally she made hours, maybe minutes, ago.

Bulma's eyes widened as she stood upright. She stared at the little dash for a good five minutes, before chalking it up to exhaustion.

She continued to walk, finding a tiny patch of leaves. She laid her head down, wrapping herself up in a blanket and falling asleep.

Bulma awoke to the sound of growling. Loud growling, that annoyed her to no ends.

She looked around, noticing her blanket inches away and torn to shreds. Her vision seemed to be red in one eye, and she hesitantly touched her eyelid, finding it wet.

Bulma squeaked, sitting upright and finding a pack of wolves, not far from her. She patted around for her bag, getting out her knife and backing away. But, the thing that she didn't notice, was the creature hiding in the shadows, growling, and drawing the wolves away from her.

Bulma quickly backed away, getting up and running, dashing across the forest floor. Her breathe was puffed out in front of her as she tried to get away from the wolves in the semi-darkness.

Her ears picked up the distinct sound of something following her, gaining up on her. She picked up her speed, but whatever was chasing her was too fast.

It pounced, tackling Bulma to the ground with it on top.

Bulma hissed, struggling, lashing out at whatever it was.

The wolf snapped at her face, his teeth almost cutting into her porcelain skin. Bulma scratched the wolf in it's muzzle, scrambling out from under it. She stood, holding her knife out in front of her.

The wolf growled, launching itself at her, only to be tackled by a dark…thing and wrestled into the darkness.

Bulma watched, trying to make out the dark shapes, but her eyes just couldn't do it. The only thing she picked up on, was the cry of the dying wolf, and the splatter of…some sort of liquid. She watched the thing stand, and walk to the edge of the darkness before stopping.

"Who's there?" Bulma asked, her voice slightly quivering.

The thing just growled, and Bulma inched forward, curiosity getting the best of her.

"I won't hurt you. Ok, well, if you attack me, I'll hurt you, but that's not as reassuring is it?" Bulma asked, chuckling slightly to herself.

"No," the thing answered, and Bulma stopped laughing. Her breathe stopped, and she froze.

Whatever it was, spoke to her. It's voice was complete elegance, with a princely sound to it, but it was gruff. Bulma thought it was the sexiest voice she ever heard.

"You can talk?" she asked, astonished.

It paused, before answering, "Yes."

"What are you?" it was an innocent question, but the thing growled.

It turned away, begging to run into the forest, before Bulma reached out, grabbing it's wrist.

"Hold on," she whispered. "Don't go."

The thing chuckled. It was short, bitter. Helpless. He stepped out of the darkness and Bulma gasped.

'It,' was an eight foot being, covered in thick dark brown, almost black, fur. It had a long tail, flickering angrily behind it. It's eyes were black, smoldering Bulma. It's snout was long, and it's teeth were bared. Long and sharp. Stained red. Ultimately, it looked like a monkey. An evil menacing monkey, with blood on it's muzzle and chest.

Bulma stepped back, releasing her grip on his wrist. "What…What are you?" she whispered, terror shaking her voice.

"What does it look like, dumbass. I'm obviously a monster," he snarled at her, stepping back into the dark.

Bulma whimpered but stepped forward, hearing the pain etched into his tone. "No, you're a hero. You're my hero. If it wasn't for you, those wolves would have eaten me," Bulma tried to sound brave, like how she normally talks, but she just couldn't do it.

The monster chuckled, "Right, if I'm a hero, then why are you so scared of me?" his voice was arrogant, like he was challenging her.

Bulma swallowed her fears, walking forward and wiping at some of the blood on his face with her sleeve. "We should get you cleaned up," she murmured.

The thing stumbled back, smacking her hand away. "Do not touch me," his voice was cold.

"I'm not scared of you," Bulma answered, sternly.

"You are a foolish woman," he growled, slowly walking backwards.

"How so?" Bulma cocked her head to the side in question.

The monster ignored her as he started to turn around and leave.

"Stop! At least take me with you, please. You see, I'm sort of lost out here," Bulma blushed a bit as she begged.

"Hn," he replied, but continued to leave.

Bulma, taking it as a yes, began to follow after the large monster.

The monster whipped around, using his hand to keep her at a distance. "Walk any closer and you'll become dinner," he growled.

Bulma flinched, shrinking into herself. "Well, at least tell me if you've seen a bald headed man walk through these parts," Bulma whimpered quietly, not wanting to upset him.

The monster began picking at it's teeth, using it's pinky to get a piece of meat between the teeth. "Many bald men have come through here, all of which have been eaten," he belched absentmindedly.

The color drained from Bulma's cheeks. She had promised her sister she would bring him back. "Yo-You're lying," Bulma whispered, trying to reassure herself.

The thing chuckled, leaning down to whisper in Bulma's ear, "You really think so?"

She immediately jumped back, shivering. "Get away from me," she willed herself to stop shaking.

The monster pressed a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt. And I thought I was your hero," he smirked, seeming to enjoy messing with the blue-haired woman.

Bulma shook her head, not saying anything as she thought of her broken sister at home. "Monster," was all she whispered, letting a tear fall.

The monster rolled his eyes, grabbing the girl by the back of her shirt.

Bulma screamed, lashing out, trying to get out of his grip.

The monster wrapped his thumb and forefinger around her throat, halting all movement form Bulma.

"Do anything to anger me and I kill you," he growled, squeezing slightly.

Bulma coughed in agreement as he let go of her neck. She closed her eyes as the beast started to move, trying to forget what was happening at the moment, and focusing on rescuing Tien.

The beast dropped Bulma, making his way up the steps to the castle.

She cursed, rubbing her backside as she stood, giving the thing the bird when his back was turned. She looked up at the castle, gasping in awe.

It was old, and had a dark menacing aura to it. Rose vines twisted intricate patterns all over the castle. It was like a page out of a storybook to Bulma and she smiled, shakily walking up the steps and into the large manor.

She looked around and saw antique furniture and old self-portraits. She carefully followed the sound of running water, trying to find the beast.

"Stupid teapot," she heard him curse, and paused, unsure if she heard right. Shaking her head, she took a hesitant step into a room, she assumed was the bathroom.

Seeing the monster in a tub filled with pink water, and brushes that moved of their own free-will, made Bulma squeal and run.

Immediately, she heard the thumping of something following her and she sniffed, wishing she was back at the forest and this was all a dream. A very realistic dream.

Instead, however, she kept running, finding a room and slamming the door shut, locking it.

She panted collapsing on the floor, reaching for her back for some water. Patting he body and realizing the bag was probably dropped and forgotten, she smacked her forehead.

"You shouldn't hit a pretty face like yours," a girlish voice giggled and Bulma froze.

"Who's there?" She called, pressing her back against a tall dresser of some sorts.

"Me!" the voice answered, and Bulma felt something push against her back. "If you moved, I could introduce myself."

Bulma's blood ram cold as she slowly turned her head around, seeing the smiling face of the dresser peering down at her.

She screamed and ran to the bed, chucking pillows and blankets at it. "Get away! Get away! Get away!" she chanted in sync with her throws.

The dresser just chuckled, "Well, you sure are a lively one. The prince certainly scored a good girl this time. Now, if only we can get you to fall in love with our cruel-hearted prince," the dresser seemed deep in thought, ignoring Bulma's screams and assaults.

"Excuse me?" Bulma stopped her attacks for the moment. "That…thing, is a prince?"

"Yup," the dresser said, smiling. "Although he may not look like it now because of that sorceress," the dresser scowled.

"Sorceress? What sorceress?" Bulma questioned skeptically. She was a girl of science, not magic.

"Ah, so you haven't heard the story?"

Bulma shook her head 'no.'

"Well then, sit down. This story is an odd one," the dresser took a deep breath before starting. "Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince. An arrogant prick he was, and because of his actions, some sorceress decided to teach him a lesson by making his inward appearance match his outward. Unfortunately, we servants were changed as well, and unless the master finds someone to love him, we all stay this way forever," the dresser sighed. "It wouldn't be so hard if he wasn't so…y'know," the dresser trailed off and Bulma nodded. "You are the first girl he has brought here. He said kidnapping that one man would bring a woman here, but we didn't believe. But look, you came, and you'll break our curse. Right?"

Bulma stopped listening after she learned that there was a man who was kidnapped, not dead. "Can you tell me where this kidnapped man is?" Bulma asked sweetly.

The dresser eyed her carefully, "In the dungeon. Why?"

Bulma thought quickly, "If the man gets to go home, then I will break this curse of yours."

The dresser's eyes widened and she smiled. "Oh, what joys! Master!" she screamed at the top of her lungs and Bulma flinched, covering her ears.

Bulma heard the quick steps coming down the hall. She got up to unlock the door, but the thing had already turned the knob a little to hard, breaking the lock on it.

"Clara, didn't I tell you that if you screamed like that again, I'd break all your shelves," the beast cracked his knuckles, a smile on his face.

"Wait!" Clara yelled, "This girl, she agreed to fall in love with you if you let that young man go."

The beast paused, looking over at Bulma who waved, "H-Hi," she said.

"Hmph, she's too ugly," he said, turning to leave.

"Ugh!" Bulma screamed, resisting the urge to go over there and give him a piece of her mind.

"I'm sorry, the master doesn't know how to express feelings like gratitude or appreciation. If it helps any, I can tell you the directions to the dungeon so you can let that man free," the dresser, Clara, offered.

Bulma considered this, smiling as a plan formulated in her mind. "Please do Clara."

The dresser started giving off simple and easy to follow directions. Bulma nodded her thanks and started on her min-adventure through the castle, avoiding the beast and any other talking objects by any means necessary. Finally, she approached the stairway that lead down to the dungeon. Taking careful steps, she trotted down them, stopping at the third cage on the right.

"Tien," she whispered through the bars. "Are you in there?"

She heard a low moan and a muffled, "Bulma?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm going to get you outta there," Bulma reassured, glancing around for the keys and spotting them on the far wall of the dungeon. She ran off to get them, coming back and shoving the key into the hole. She turned it, hearing a click, and the door swung open. She rushed inside, hauling Tien to his feet. "Come on, we gotta get out of her," Bulma grunted.

Tien nodded and they slowly made their way up the stairs, paying close attention to the steps. They could not afford a slip-up.  
"What do we have here?" a voice boomed and Bulma started to shake in fear.

"Prince," Bulma bowed, "I was just helping-"

"A peasant and a prisoner. Hmm, I was planning on letting the prisoner go anyways, but I changed my mind. Someone has to stay behind. Who's it going to be peasant?" he spat.

"I'll stay," Bulma answered, "Just let him go."

"Alright then," the beast shrugged, pulling the male forward and tossing him out into the hall. "I'll release the spell for twenty minutes, if you're not out by then, well, I don't really care."

Tien hesitated, looking to Bulma who mouthed, 'Go.'

Once he was gone, the beast turned to Bulma, grabbing and holding her by her hair. "Now for the peasant. Remember what I said? Disobey me and you die?"

Bulma gulped, deciding it was wise not to do or say anything.

"I think I made a mistake. It would be much more…pleasing to torture you instead," he whispered into Bulma's ear, nipping at her lobe.  
Bulma flinched away from the beast.

"Oh, should I bite you here?" the beast moved to her neck, biting hard, causing her to bleed.

Bulma whimpered a bit, trying to press her hand to her wound, but stopped by the beast.

"Or here?" he sliced the shirt in half, revealing Bulma's breasts. He bit down at the top of her cleavage, blood started to bubble up to the surface.

Bulma fought back tears, praying that he had the decency not to move any lower.

"Then again, when have I ever lowered myself to touch a peasant girl. You should consider yourself lucky," the beast growled. "Disgusting," Bulma heard as the beast let go of his hold on her. She landed on a step, losing her balance as she tried to cover herself with the ripped shirt. She fell down the stairs, hitting her head hard on the last step.

"Sweet dreams Peasant Woman," the breast cackled as Bulma lost consciousness


	4. Chapter 4

Yay, early chapter! I decided to work my butt off an type it because I was feeling generous today, don't expect it to happen again. So, be happy that this is early! Also, thank you SO much for reviewing, favoriting, and following. It really touches my heart and means a lot, so thanks, I really appreciate it guys. Ok, on with the story!

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Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Urm, yea riiiiiiiiiight  
When Bulma awoke, she was uncomfortable and cold. Her wrists were chained to the wall above her. Her only piece of clothing she wore was some panties and Bulma thanked God she had decided to grow out her hair, seeing at is was her only protection from perverted men, or rather an evil beast.

She instantly scowled, only feeling hatred for the man. What, had he saved her so that he could have the opportunity to rape her? Bulma shivered at the thought of that big hairy…thing, touching her in such a way. She didn't feel any pain down below and figured that he had waited until she was awake. For what? She wasn't sure.

She looked around for a way to escape, trying to stretch her legs out to get more comfortable.

Bulma heard the door slam against the wall and froze, whimpering as she tried to inch back, only succeeding in scratching her bare back against the rough wall.

Slow tapping followed after and whatever it was made it's way down the way.

"Hello, Ms. Bulma? Clara told me you were down here," a female voice murmured softly.

Bulma's eyes widened as she whispered shouted "Help!" not wanting to draw the attention of an unwanted monster.

The voice sighed, "The master and his temper. Don't worry I'll get you outta here."

"Oh thank you!" Bulma gushed. "Thank y-" she stopped seeing that the female was not a human but of course a talking object. In this case, a teapot.

The teapot smirked at Bulma as she passed, going to get the key. "Shit," she heard the teapot curse and Bulma panicked.

"What?"

"The bastard kept the key," shaking her head the teapot hopped back. "Wait here," she said, hitting her handle twice on the wall, revealing a hidden door. The teapot hopped through, the secret door closing.

"Not if I have much of a choice," Bulma muttered, wrinkling her nose.

"So, the Peasant Woman is awake," that gruff elegant voice chuckled as he trotted down the stairs.

Bulma kept her mouth shut, turning her head to the side, refusing to speak or even look at this monster.

"Oh, you seem to believe you are above me. That will change shortly."

The cage door was flung open and Bulma's chin was grasped in a rough hand. A long sharp claw trailed from her hairline to her chin. A blood drop fell from her jaw as the nail was pressed too hard there.

"S-Stop," the shuddered word slipped past her lips. "Please, aren't you too princely to touch a peasant like me? Or have you resorted to touching village people?"

Those were the wrong words to say, seeing as the beast slapped her across her face.

Bulma froze, trying to process what has happened. The unfamiliar sting to her cheek confirmed it. This asshole slapped her.

"How dare you raise a hand to me. Do you know who I am? Who my fiance is? I don't care if you are some big ugly beast prince! No one slaps Bulma Briefs and gets away with it," she fumed, arching her back and straining her neck to get into the monster's face.

It was his turn to be stunned, and he smirked. "I'll keep you alive," he paused thinking, "for now." He then leaned down, lapping up the small puddle of blood that had dripped onto her chest, then moved up to her jaw to cover the wound in his saliva. "Goodbye, Peasant Woman," he stood, leaving.

"Get back here! And stop calling me that! It's Bulma ya' jerk!" Bulma shouted after him, hearing his soft chuckles and the slam of the door.

She was left huffing and puffing and feeling…aroused? Was that the word that described the fluttering of her heart, the red tint in her cheeks, and the low heat she felt between her legs.

No, she quickly shook her head. It was anger, and irritation, and frustration. As if she felt turned on by that dickbag. The thought was laughable, making Bulma laugh aloud for emphasis.

Arching her back to it's fullest extent, Bulma moaned as her back popped, letting out a satisfied sigh. She hunched her back slightly in relaxation, stretching her fingers.

Hanging her head, she caught the sight of something black clipped to her underwear. Cocking her head and realizing that it was a bobby pin, she let out an overjoyed squeal, remembering having attached little hair clips and such to her panties in case of a sticky situation. She mentally patted herself on the back, reaching down to grab it, meeting the resistance of the chains. She growled under her breath, bending her leg and trying to get her toe to pluck the pin from her waistline.

Unfortunately, Bulma was not the most flexible girl in the world, so grabbing it with her toe was practically impossible for her. Back to racking her brain for other plans.

An idea popped into her head and she sighed. Wrapping her hands around the hanging chains, she pulled, slightly lifting her hips off the ground and dropping down on the floor and sliding forward. She repeated the process until her panties started the slip from her waist.

Slowly, she slipped them off her butt, and she wiggled until they were at her knees. She was able to slip them off with her foot and, with her other foot, she managed to pull the pin off.

Bulma bit her lip, considering whether or not she could do the next part. Deciding that there was no point in not trying, she pointed her hands downward and lifted her feet to her hands. Grunting at the pain in the back of her knee, she struggled on until her foot handed off the bobby pin to her hands.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she worked her magic and stuck the pin in the lock. She wiggled it, a satisfied smirk graced her face as the lock clicked and released Bulma's hands. She let her hands fall to her side, rubbing her wrists. Although not chained for long, her wrists still hurt, her hands had fallen asleep, and her arms were stiff and sore.

Quickly pulling on her underwear, she rushed to the door, sticking the pin in the lock, wiggling in and burst through the door as soon as it creaked open. She ran her way up the stairs, unknowingly kicking the female teapot out of the way.

"I'm going to escape this crazy house!" she giggled quietly to herself.

She skipped down the stairs twirling to the door. Placing her hand on the handle, she stopped. The beast's words ringing in her ears.

'I'll release the spell for twenty minutes.' Bulma groaned, releasing the door handle and stepping back.

She turned around, accepting her defeat and headed up the stairs. She made her way to the room that held the dresser Clara, refusing to return back to the dungeon.

Opening the door, she stepping in collapsing on the bed. "Clara," she mumbled against the comforters, "let me out."

"What do you mean?" Clara asked, hopping toward Bulma, opening her drawers and offering Bulma clothes.

Bulma took an overly large shirt and slipped it on. "That prince of yours, he's an ass, how could anyone come to love him?" Bulma questioned carefully.

" ," Clara's voice darkened, "you aren't planning to break your promise, are you?"

Bulma sat up, chuckling uneasily, "And lets just say, hypothetically of course, that I plan to back out and not break this curse. What exactly would happen? Hypothetically."

Clara pursed her lips, "Have young women ever disappeared from your village?"

Bulma wrinkled her eyebrows, a small hint of fear wrapped itself around Bulma's heart. "Yes, quite a few actually. Why?"

Clara leaned to the side, "What do you think Bulma. Aren't you a super genius?"

Bulma's eyes widened and a choked squeak traveled up her throat, "You-You're going to kill me?"

Clara let out a whole-hearted laugh, "Not exactly. Follow me," she turned, gesturing to Bulma to open the door.

Bulma shook her head, shaking, "I'm fine," she waved her hand, "You go ahead."

"Bulma, I suggest you follow me. Unless of course, you want the master to get involved."

Bulma slowly got up, grumbling about evil talking dressers, and turned the knob on the door.

Clara pushed past her, hopping through the halls making multiple turns. She traveled up some stairs and stopped when she reached the darkest, and scariest, part of the castle.

"Open this door," she instructed Bulma, and she complied, albeit begrudgingly.

Bulma stepped into a room full of porcelain dolls and turned a confused look to Clara. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Why don't you take a closer look at these dolls. See if they spark up any memories," Clara suggested.

Bulma raised her eyebrows, shrugging as she stepped closer to the rack of dolls.

None of the dolls reminded Bulma of anything, until she came across a blonde, pale skinned doll with a genuine smile upon her face.

"Mommy?" Bulma breathed, picking up the doll. "Why is there a doll resembling my mother in this castle?" Bulma whispered.

Clara didn't answer Bulma's question. "Your mother really was a kind lady. The perfect woman for the master. She found the kindness within him, and she managed to open up his heart. Unfortunately, she was already happily married with three beautiful girls. Still though, the curse took it's affect. Master has never been the same since," she sighed.

Bulma's expression was that of complete and utter horror. "You…" Bulma shook, placing the doll back on the shelf in fear of dropping it, "How could you!" She screamed. "My mother never hurt anyone! She loved all people and saw the good in everyone. How, no. Why would you people do this to her?" Bulma cried, breaking down in sobs When Bulma learned of her mother's disappearance, she was heartbroken, of course, but she also felt hatred toward her mother for leaving. She vowed to take her mother's role by taking care of her family's well-being and happiness. But now, she felt guilty for thinking of her mother in such a way. It wasn't Bunny's fault she was being held captive by a monster. "You better change my mother back."

Clara shook her head, "I can't, but you can. All you have to do is break the curse. Then your dear mother will return."

"And the other girls?" Bulma asked, eyes still pouring tears.

"Well, it depends. Some will return to normal, others will turn to ash. These dolls age as humans do. You see the one at the very top, she was the first to come to the castle. You see how many cracks, and how much dust is on it? That one will definitely turn to dust. You're mother, though, she doesn't seem to have aged much, so she will come back to you."

Bulma wiped her tears, planting a kiss on her mother's cheek. "I'm going to save you mom," she whispered against the cold, hard cheek.

She then stood upright, leaving the room. Deadly determination written across her face. "Beast! Master! Prince! Whatever the hell your name is, come here!" she yelled.

Suddenly, she was slammed against the wall, face pressed against the wall while an arm was twisted behind her back. "How did this Peasant Woman escape her cage, I wonder?" He whispered against the back of her neck. He twisted her wrist, to the point where, if she were to move even the slightest, her wrist would snap in half. She grunted uncomfortably, feeling the slight sting of tears. "This Peasant Woman needs to be punished, yes?"

Bulma took a deep breath, preparing her mind for what she was going to do.

Quickly, Bulma yanked her wrist free, using the momentum to spin around, wrap her arms around the beast's neck, and press a kiss to the beast's mouth.

She closed her eyes, feeling a cool breeze surround her, which was what Bulma suspected to be a sign of the curse breaking.

She sighed as she saw a vision of her family, whole and complete, laughing as her and her three sisters danced around while her parents laughed at the scene.

Opening her eyes with a smile, she stood, astonished. "Where'd you go monster?" she asked. "Or is it Prince now?" she chuckled to herself.

"What the fuck was that?" he yelled at her, staying hidden.

"A kiss, or have you never had one of those?"

"I know what a kiss is you dimwit. Why did you do it?"

Bulma looked confused, "I broke the spell didn't I?"

The beast stepped out from the darkness. "Does it look broken to you?" He gestured to himself.

"But, didn't I just have to kiss you? You know, like that frog and the princess? Why isn't the spell broken?"

The beast shook his head, "You can not break this curse like that. You have to…" he trailed off.

"I have to what?" Bulma asked.

"You have to-" he mumbled something after.

"I can't hear you. Speak up."

"You have to rofe me," his sentence hardly understandable.

"Come on Beasty," Bulma tapped him on his back.

"You have to love me!" he roared in her face, turning and stomping away.

"Hey, wait up! First off all, don't yell at a lady like that. Second of all, I'm hungry, I haven't eaten in forever, so go get me dinner. Also, I need you to go get my bag out of the forest, there is a bottle of pills I might need," Bulma followed after him, instructing him to do some errands for her.

"Woman, who do you take me for? A servant? Go bother that stupid clock or that annoying teapot," he growled at her.

"No, I want you to do it. Please," Bulma pleaded.

"Stop following me Peasant," he snapped at her.

"At least go get my pills. You'll be greatly rewarded," Bulma smirked to himself.

The beast paused, turning, pushing Bulma out of the way, and leaving. Bulma smiled at her victory as she hurried around the mansion trying to find the kitchen to cook herself a meal.

"Food," she moaned. "Maybe some gumbo, or a crepe, or pizza, or pasta, or burgers? For dessert, ice creme, or crème brulee? How about I have it all! It'll be a feast!" Bulma clapped her hands, giggling to herself. "If only I could find that damn kitchen."

"Should we help her Cheech?" the voice made Bulma freeze.

"No, that bitch nearly killed me," that voice Bulma recognized as the teapot.

"Hey, Daddy? What's a bi-"

"Gohan, let's go find your Uncle Krillin while your Mommy calms down and learns to watch her mouth, ok?" the male voice asked the the child-like one.

The teapot, or Cheech, as Bulma soon learned, huffed, hopping out to greet Bulma, "Hello, Her Bitchiness. If you would follow me, I can take you to a place where you can to your heart's content," sarcastic respect was present in Cheech's voice.

"I'm not a bitch," Bulma pouted. "What did I ever do to you, huh?" Bulma pointed a finger in the teapot's face.

"You nearly killed me when you tried to escape. Why are you still here?" Cheech hissed.

"I decided to stay. Come on then servant ," Bulma sneered, "show me the way to the kitchen."

"Fatass," Cheech mumbled as she hopped by.

Cheech lead the way to the larger than average kitchen. "Here's the kitchen. There should be something edible in there, if not, call me and I'll cook you something."

"Wait," Bulma blocked the path of the teapot with her foot, "do you know how to make burgers?" Bulma asked nervously.

"No, sorry I don't know how to make American food. Only French and Asian. I can cook you something else," Cheech offered half-heartedly.

"Hm, make me something Asian. I've never had that type of food before. Where did you learn?" Bulma asked curiously, sitting down on one of the chairs and leaning over the table.

"My mother," Cheech answered before whistling. "Ok ladies, let's make some curry," she smiled when several different objects appeared.

They all nodded as they danced across counters, gathered spices and pots and utensils. They all moved together in sync, like one big dance production.

Bulma giggled as she watched in great joy and amusement. "How did you guys learn to do this?" she asked, a smile on her face.

Cheech paused, shrugging, "Years of practice."

Nodding as Bulma continued to watch, she clapped her hands when they were done and presented Bulma with a bowl of curry and rice.

Bulma eyed it cautiously, slowly picking up her spoon and shoveling some in her mouth. She pinched her eyes shut, letting the spicy unfamiliar taste tingle her taste buds. She snapped her eyes open. "It's good" she exclaimed.

ChiChi chukled, "Well of course. I made it," ChiChi sounded smug and Bulma laughed, scarfing down the rest and asking for more.

Bulma finished three bowls before she sat back satisfied. "You're all right Cheech," she burped.

Cheech wrinkled her nose at Bulma, "Why are you calling me that?"

"That's what that guy called you," Bulma cocked her head, confused.

Cheech chuckled, "That's what my husband, Goku, calls me when he is, I guess the best word is, displeased with me. My name is ChiChi. I would offer to shake your hand but," she trailed off.

Bulma smiled, "I see, nice to meet you ChiChi."

"And you are, Ms. Bulma? I believe that's what Clara called you."

Bulma nodded, "Yes, I'm Bulma. Bulma B-"

She was cut off my loud banging, and Bulma stood, following ChiChi who rushed out of the kitchen as fast as she could. Bulma kept silent, not daring to say a word.

When they came to the top of the short seven steps, Bulma and ChiChi gasped, and Bulma dashed down the stairs, picking up the blood covered beast's head and setting it in her lap. "Here's yo…ur damn pills Peasant…Woman," he gasped, setting the pill bottle in her lap and passing out.

Bulma picked the pill bottle up and threw it, not caring about the attack she felt coming on, but she held it at bay. She wasn't going to let this asshole die, no matter what. She placed a kiss to his forehead. "Don't die on me."


End file.
